Process of Aging
by Racke
Summary: A short story of growing old, and of long forgotten love.


Process of Aging

XXX

She will always remember her first love, no matter how long she lives. Even as she marries, _her_ face still shines brightly in her memories.

She will remember how she spent time with _her_ when she cares for her children. When she sees them graduate. When she greets her grandchildren for the first time.

Her heart will always remember _her_ touch, even if they've long since gone separate ways.

She's grown old, closer to the age when waking up is becoming something of a hassle, yet she still continues to wake up. She's not sure about her reason, why she so desperately wishes to see another day.

Her children can take care of themselves, her husband has already fallen into that eternal slumber, there's no real reason left to brave every morning, so why doesn't she just lay back down and let her tired body rest?

Is it cowardice, the fear of the unknown that drives her to rise once more? Or is there another reason?

Her memory is beginning to fail, things that she should remember are disappearing from her grasp, but for some reason she can still recall _her_ face so vividly.

She can't get up anymore, unable to move from her bed, she simply smiles kindly at her grandchildren as they come to meet her. There is warmth when she thinks of them, but still _her_ smiling face appears whenever her eyes close.

They seem to know that her mind is not focused on them, and so they innocently ask her what she's thinking of. There is no jealousy in their voices, just the childish curiosity befitting those of their age.

She tells them of things that seemed to have happened almost a hundred years ago, she tells them of the girl that is burned so deeply into her memories.

They seem surprised to hear that she, too, was once young, but this piques their interest and so they ask her more.

She's always kept track of her age, but she can't remember what it is, it seems like the years passing her by no longer matter to her. She's content, just like how everyone's content. She's happy to have met her children, her grandchildren, and she remembers her husband fondly.

There is nothing left for her to ask for, she's lived a full life, and she should be able to rest peacefully.

So why won't that image leave from inside of her eyelids?

But, that doesn't matter anymore, she can feel something slowly slipping away from her grasp, and she knows that her time is running out, regrets or not.

They arrive again, seemingly happy about something, they look much like mischievous children finally being able to reveal what they've been doing.

"There's someone here who would like to meet you," smiling they step back, letting another form pass through the doorway that they previously occupied.

She's never seen that form, she's never seen that slow, careful walk before.

But, those shining eyes of _hers_ haven't changed at all.

She smiles at the girl that she's loved for such a very long time, and gains in turn a smile that seem to light up the room, almost as if the sun itself had settled just outside of the windows.

She can feel tears burning their way down her cheeks, and she can see that even the one smiling like the sun is capable of crying through _her_ shining smile.

_She_ moves across the floor in an aged display of calm dignity, something that shouldn't suit _her_, but still does. Time forces even the rushing rivers to calm and meander before they finally reach the sea.

How long has she waited for _her_?

As she stares into those beautiful eyes, the awkwardness of her aging body is forgotten, and she is once again thrown into the memories.

Some are happy. Some are sad. Some seem silly now in hindsight. But all of them are equally precious. Because she spent them with _her_.

The warmth of _her_ embrace is just like she remembers, calming her and still managing to make her heart race.

She opens her mouth, wishing to tell _her_ the words that could never escape from her lips back then. But she forgets herself, realizing that there is no need to do so.

_She's_ known all along.

That gentle acceptance is enough, and so she smiles happily as her long life, finally comes to an end.

XXX

**A/n:** **I think I might just be a sucker for romantically melancholic epilogues… I apologize for any inconvenience this fault of mine might cause my readers.**


End file.
